


Friends, Waffles, and Work (Or Waffles, Friends, Work)

by Margo_Kim



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Female Friendship, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, POV Female Character, Waffles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 06:03:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Margo_Kim/pseuds/Margo_Kim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Over the last three days, Leslie has eaten over two hundred dollars worth of waffles. It's either out of joy or nerves. Ann's not quite sure. What she is sure of is that as a friend and medical practitioner, she should probably find out what's going on before Leslie shotguns another bottle of syrup.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friends, Waffles, and Work (Or Waffles, Friends, Work)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at my [tumblr](http://margo-kim.tumblr.com/) for a prompt from [Ias](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ias) who also beta'd.

Over the last three days, Leslie has eaten over two hundred dollars worth of waffles out of either joy or nerves. No one knows for sure. Leslie’s brain is almost impossible to understand from the outside. Ann even had to confirm with Ben and Ron that this is, in fact, excessive. By now, Ann doesn’t even understand how Leslie can stand to eat anymore. “She barfs them up and then she keeps going,” April had said, but Ann makes a blanket assumption that everything April says is a lie.

But a certain point, as a friend and more importantly as a medical practitioner, Ann decides she has to intervene. That point is lunch at JJ’s, around waffle number six.

Ann slaps Leslie’s hand away from the syrup. “No, Leslie.”

Leslie looks back at her with her big wet eyes. “I need this,” she says or, more faithfully transcribed, “Ah neeeeh es,” since the words got a little muffled through the waffle she had shoved in her mouth (Literally an entire waffle, rolled up and shoved it. It had been like watching a snake eating a mouse.)

“You don’t need this, Leslie,” Ann says. “You will have a heart attack and you will die.”

Leslie scoffs. Bits of chewed waffle spray across the table. “Mmm hamamam maaasamsamah.” Which even Ann, fluent in Leslie by now, can’t translate.

Taking advantage of Ann’s momentary confusion, Leslie grabs the syrup bottle and clutches it to her chest. Her eyes have the manic look of particularly high sugar high. Ann puts her hands up. She knows how to pick her battles. Usually she doesn't pick the ones where it looks like Leslie's willing to gnaw Ann's hand off. “For the record,” Ann says as Leslie poured syrup directly into her mouth, “that is disgusting.”

Leslie gives Ann a gently pitying look. Alright then. Time for the trump card.

“Leslie, is this how a member of the United States House of Representatives should act?”

Leslie chews for a long time. She swallows. “No,” she says reluctantly.

Ann reaches over and grabs Leslie’s sticky hands. “Come on, Representative Knope. You’ve got to leave space for all the food at your going away party.”

(Well, parties. All planned by Leslie. There was one for the Parks Department, one for the city council, one for the entire local government, one for the Galentine’s Gang, one for any members of the public who wanted to shout one more bit of abuse before she left for Washington, one for her close friends, and one extra for anyone who couldn’t make it to the other ones.

“Which one do you want me to come to?” Ann had asked.

Leslie stroked Ann’s hair. “Oh, you magnificent, ignorant blooming desert cactus. All of them.)

Leslie just nods. Which is a bit of an under reaction. Between the sugar and the knowledge that she’s an elected official of the United States of America, Leslie should literally be buzzing.

“You know you can always come back to Pawnee,” Ann says. “Anytime. You’re representing the district we’re in. Visiting is literally part of your job.”

“Pssh, yeah, Ann, _duh_ , is this civics class or something?” Leslie snorts and it sounds like she’s choking. “Methinks the lady doth over possess the misunderstandings of meself forsooth.”

Leslie always sounds fake British when she’s nervous. It’s an insanely specific tell. And insane.

Ann smiles as reassuringly as she can. And Ann is a nurse. She’s smiled at people while removing wine bottles and wrist watches from their ass. Her smiles are super reassuring. “It’s going to be great, Leslie. This is what you’ve always dreamed about doing.”

After a moment, Leslie gives her a little smile back. “I know. It’s incredible.”

“But?” Ann prods.

“But things are never going to be the same.”

Ann thinks about everything she’s been trying not to think about. City Hall without her weekly donut extravaganzas. Weekends without four hour trips to local Pawnee historical sites. The Parks Department without the wild and grand plans that made the summer worth having. An extreme lack of crazy in her day-to-day life. An extreme lack of Leslie.

“No,” Ann says. “I guess they won’t be.”

They sit in silence for a moment. This isn’t their last lunch at JJs. This isn’t their last day in Pawnee. It just feels like it.

“I am going to throw up my waffle,” Leslie says.

They stand. “That makes sense,” Ann replies. “Shall we run to the bathroom?”

“I think we shall.”

Ann rubs Leslie’s back as she violently ejects six waffles from her system. When Leslie’s done, Ann keeps rubbing.

“Oh Ann,” Leslie moans as she presses her forehead against the toilet seat, “if I wasn’t happily married to Ben and if I didn’t oppose the devaluation of female friendships by claiming that they somehow become more valid when sex is involved, I would date you and marry you and have little ethnically ambiguous babies with you.”

Ann just keeps rubbing. “You probably shouldn’t let your head touch the toilet seat. This is Pawnee. I don’t think anyone’s cleaned that toilet for awhile.”

Leslie turns up slightly and smiles at Ann. “I know. And I bet they never will. Isn’t that beautiful?”

“It is a festering bowl of germs that you are rubbing your head on.”

“And that will never change.”

Leslie Knope is not built for pessimism, Ann thinks. That’s probably why she’s going to rule the world someday. “You are going to be,” Ann says, “so incredibly, stupidly happy in Washington.”

“Yeah,” Leslie says. “I totally am. But it won’t be half as fun without you with me.”

“Aw, Leslie, I—”

“Which is why you’re visiting every weekend. I’ve made all the plans. We’re going to see the Smithsonian next week.”

“You know the Smithsonian is like twenty museums.”

Leslie rubs Ann’s face with a hand that is hopefully not flecked with vomit and beams. “I know! It’s amazing.”

And as Ann tells Leslie why, no, she can’t come visit Washington every week and, no, she can’t come work there, and the commute would be insane, and that Leslie’s going to need to make new friends in Washington like senators and stuff,  and as Ann pulls Leslie to her feet and they stagger out of the bathroom and pay their check, and as they drive to the first of a million goodbye parties, and as the entire time Leslie drinks Ann in like she’s a camel getting ready for a dry spell, as all this is happening, Ann is just—happy. Ann never had a dream she cared enough to achieve. She’s happy just being Ann with her small, well-tended life in her small, less well-tended town. But Leslie, Leslie wants so much. And she’s getting it. It’s like Ann’s own vicarious happy ever after. Which, Ann has to say, seems like it feels about as good as if it were her own.

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [(podfic) Friends, Waffles, and Work (Or Waffles, Friends, Work)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/689810) by [letsgofriday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/letsgofriday/pseuds/letsgofriday)




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